


whiskey sour

by scrapheap_redux



Series: vinegar and other stain removers [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Pong Krell Being an Asshole, discussion of mass deaths re:krell, terrible treatment of troopers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29522121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheap_redux/pseuds/scrapheap_redux
Summary: While things are starting to fall into motion on Coruscant, there's another problem that needs to be dealt with. Obi-Wan and Ghost Company don't know what kind of situation they're walking into on Kiriinth, but they've never let that stop them. Not even when there's a fellow Jedi in the way.(Or: Krell might not be Palpatine, but he's a monster of a different flavor. Things get looked into, and nobody likes what gets turned up.)
Relationships: Background CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Minor or Background Relationship(s), background Boil (Star Wars)/Waxer (Star Wars)
Series: vinegar and other stain removers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168757
Comments: 91
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> People seemed interested in this, so! This starts around ch 23 of srw, after the council meeting. You might not *need* to read it to understand, but some stuff is going to be confusing otherwise
> 
> general warnings: y'all know what krell is like. mistreatment/abuse of clones, dehumanization, mass deaths (referenced/discussed only), etc, and the fallout thereof.

“Hey, do you know what this meeting is for?” Waxer asks Boil quietly as the rest of Ghost company waits for the General to appear. Boil shrugs.

“Probably why we were split off from the rest of the battalion.” Waxer huffs.

“Well obviously, but  _ why _ ?” Boil side-eyes him, but before he can say something snarky General Kenobi finally appears, Commander Cody at his side. Waxer immediately straightens. The General looks grim and exhausted, and the set of the Commander’s shoulders is a little too stiff to be normal. Something big must have happened to shake the both of them so thoroughly - Waxer remembers them being rattled when they’d left Coruscant a while ago, but they’re usually better about hiding that kind of thing around the men.

“Gentlemen,” General Kenobi says, voice carrying through the hangar. “General Pong Krell is currently in the Kiriinth system, on Kiriinth III.” Waxer exchanges a puzzled look with Boil, not sure where the General is going with this. “Master Krell is to be detained under orders from the Jedi Council and will be taken into custody until his inquiry is complete.” Ghost company is too well-trained to start whispering with each other in the middle of an officer’s speech, but Waxer can tell the urge is there. General Kenobi takes a slow, deep breath and continues. “We are currently en route to the Kiriinth system to take General Krell into custody, and will be overseeing the 304th battalion until either we are relieved or General Krell is released.” He hesitates, and Commander Cody clears his throat and steps forward.

“As General Krell is being accused of abusing clone troopers, take care in any interactions with the 304th. We don’t know the current situation with them and General Krell, but it’s important that we don’t cause any further damage while we’re there.” Waxer nods dazedly, head whirling. This was… this was  _ big _ . He hazards a glance at Boil, whose face is coldly impassive, and he wonders.

It’s never been a secret that clones aren’t treated well. The Jedi have changed that, in some ways - the trainers can’t get away with nearly as much on Kamino, these days, and every Jedi Waxer has met has gone out of their way to look out for their men - but Waxer has interacted with enough civilians to know that most nat-borns aren’t so kind. He’d just never thought a Jedi would be among their ranks.

“Commander,” Waxer calls out as the room files out, jogging over to where Cody and General Kenobi are still lingering. Boil - that bastard - had ducked out right before things officially tied up just to avoid Waxer, but that means that nobody is around to stop Waxer from sticking his nose into things. Commander Cody straightens up when he sees Waxer, but something in General Kenobi’s face goes pained and tight.

“Lieutenant,” Cody greets, short and to the point. Waxer salutes him, and Cody sighs. “What is it?”

“Sir, what kind of condition should we expect the 304th to be in when we arrive?” Waxer asks, knowing that everyone else has dispersed enough for them to go unheard. Cody frowns, but General Kenobi strokes his beard.

“I’m afraid we don’t know quite yet,” Kenobi says, frowning. “It’s possible that this was an isolated incident and we’re simply getting ahead of ourselves, but…” he trails off. “I have a bad feeling about all of this.” Waxer’s stomach drops.  _ That _ is a phrase that never bodes well.

“We’ll keep that in mind, sir,” Waxer replies, already trying to figure out which men in his platoon are the least likely to clash with a scared and hurt trooper. He’ll have to keep an eye on Boil, too, at least until Boil stops posturing and trying to act tough and actually shows the caring heart Waxer knows he has. Commander Cody dismisses him and Waxer heads off to go track down his erstwhile partner.

There’s a Sith Lord in the Senate. There’s a Sith Lord in the Senate, and he’s had his hooks in Commander Fox since the very beginning. Obi-Wan wants to pace, but the light cruiser they’re on now doesn’t have the same size of bridge he’s used to and he’d only get in the way and worry the men. Obi-Wan has had a lot of bad meetings since he became a member of the Council, but he’s never had something quite like this.

Commander Fox was not an easy man to spirit away. Either their Sith Lord was especially good at stealing away bits of the man’s time, enough so that nobody had noticed, or the Sith Lord was seizing Fox under the guise of official business. Official  _ Senate _ business. Whoever their Sith Lord is, they’re somebody powerful enough to get Commander Fox alone without raising any alarms, without drawing the attention of any Senators, Guards, or even the Force-damned paparazzi. Obi-Wan knows, better than most, just how hard it is to keep a secret on Coruscant. Fox might not be as notorious as Cody or Rex, but his armor is  _ distinct _ and people are always happy enough to start up some unsavory rumor or another about the clones.

And nowhere is the gossip more intense than the Senate itself. There should be  _ some _ sign of who the Sith Lord is even without Fox’s testimony, and something about that bothers Obi-Wan a lot more than he’d like to admit. For now, though, all Obi-Wan can do is deal with Krell and hope that the Council figures out how to destroy the geas before it’s too late.

They only get the comm half an hour before General Kenobi is about to reach them. Krell, unsurprisingly, is in a foul mood about the unexpected development, but with another Jedi incoming he manages to keep his temper somewhat in check. That doesn’t mean anyone lets their guard down, though. You can never do that around Krell.

Still, the lull leaves Angel with little to do and a bunch of anxious medics to deal with, so he ends up setting them on the annoying busywork tasks in the Medbay and wanders off to go see if he can track down one of the other officers. They certainly aren’t nervous as the shinies, who are basically jittering out of their armor, but they know what will come after the other General leaves.

Scrag is in the armory, triple-checking everything to make sure their inventory is perfect. He’s doing it all himself, because nobody wants to trust a shiny to get things perfect. Angel can’t really blame him, since General Kenobi apparently needs to get some supplies before he and the rest of Ghost Company head off onto their mission. It’s not worth trying to have a conversation with him while he’s at it, so Angel shrugs and decides to check the mess. Kung is there, unsurprisingly, the shinies giving his table a wide berth as he grumbles to himself and jabs a finger into the datapad next to him. Angel rolls his eyes, grabs a tray from an unsuspecting shiny, and slams it down in front of Kung. Kung’s head snaps up, teeth already bared in a snarl, but Angel just shoves the tray at him.

“Eat,” he orders, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s what the mess hall is  _ actually _ here for, not whatever project you’ve been working on.” Kung flushes dully.

“Kriff off,” he grumbles, but he takes the tray and starts poking at his food. Angel waits until he reluctantly takes a bite before leaving, satisfied. If he pushes any more Kung will just not eat it out of spite, and they all need to be at their best right now.

Lunis, Hock, and Fritz are all in the barracks. Lunis is double-checking that the shinies’ bunks are regulation-perfect, while Hock is sitting on his own bunk and cleaning his blaster. Fritz seems to be trying to take a nap, but Angel isn’t surprised - he’d gotten a chest full of shrapnel the other day, his body is still trying to heal. Part of Angel does wish he could do more - Fritz is one of the few clones left from the original 304th, and Angel has gotten used to him being around - but he’s already having to water down bacta as it is for anything that’s not immediately life threatening. Shiny Angel, fresh out of Kamino’s medic training, would be appalled, but that Angel didn’t know what it was like to see hundreds of brothers pass through his medbay and die no matter what he did until he had to start deciding which brothers were worth the supplies to try and keep alive and which ones weren’t.

Angel turns away, familiar bitterness rising in his chest. He doesn’t know how Lunis and Fritz and even Hock can stand to be around those shinies for any length of time, let alone try to be friendly with them, knowing that they’re little more than cannon fodder. All that does is make it hurt more when most of them don’t make it back.

Angel is just about to walk off when his comm goes off. He can hear Fritz and Hock’s going off as well. It’s from the Captain. 

**CT-5938:** General Kenobi is incoming. Report to hanger immediately.

Angel grimaces and reluctantly heads towards the hanger, not bothering to wait for the others. They’ll catch up. He types out another message on his comm as he walks, reminding his motley crew of medics to be inspection-ready. If they can’t keep it together, they can go hide out in his office. Maybe Angel will be lucky and one of them will fill out the piles of forms sitting off to the side.

Lunis catches up to him right as they reach the hanger, Hock and Fritz not far behind. Angel’s stomach sours as he spots General Krell, standing right next to the Captain, but he keeps his mouth shut. He tunes out whatever Krell barks at them - probably a condemnation of them taking so long to get there - in favor of eyeing the rest of the little welcoming party.

Skrag and Kung are lingering near the back of the group, leaving Angel and the others to fill out the space between. Angel ends up standing behind the Captain, eyes fixed on the back of his head. It’s better than looking at Krell.

The familiar sound of a gunship catches Angel’s attention, and he looks up to see a LAAT coming in, a stripe painted in 212th gold on the side. The pilots carefully land it in the hanger, as close as they can get without risking hitting General Krell or the Captain. Angel straightens his shoulders.

The door slides open.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: canon-typical dehumanization, implied abuse of clone troopers

Obi-Wan straightens up as the LAAT comes in for a landing, a bad feeling already caught in the back of his throat. He can see Master Krell through the blast doors, a handful of troopers standing at attention behind him. Their shields are immaculate - Obi-Wan can’t feel any of their emotions leaking into the Force - but there’s a miasma of uneasiness hanging over the ship. Obi-Wan isn’t sure what it says that even with such skilled mental shielding the Force is so steeped in emotion.

The doors open and Obi-Wan steps out, a fake smile plastered onto his face as he greets Master Krell. He can’t even remember what he says, false pleasantries falling from his lips as he meets Krell’s eyes and wonders _how many of your men have you hurt_. Krell not-so-gently suggests that they go to the bridge, and Obi-Wan agrees with an easy smile that is the biggest lie he has in his arsenal, discreetly signing for Waxer and his platoon to stay and talk to the 304th while he and Cody keep an eye on Krell. Waxer nods once, short and sharp and barely visible, and hangs back when Obi-Wan and Krell head off towards the bridge.

Waxer waits until the Generals have left entirely before he lets his body language relax and wanders over to the members of the 304th still in the hanger. One - Krell’s commander, probably - had gone with the Generals, but the rest have made no move to leave or even twitch from their positions. “Hey,” he greets cheerfully, pretending he doesn’t notice when they all stiffen. “Sorry, we’re imposing on you guys for a bit.” He smoothly pulls his helmet off and tucks it under an arm, holding out a hand for the closest vod to shake. “I’m Waxer, Ghost Company.” After a long moment, the vod shakes Waxer’s hand.

“Angel,” he says gruffly. “CMO.” The handshake is short and terse, and as soon as it’s over Angel pulls his hand back like he’s been burned. Behind him, Waxer hears Boil and some of the others taking their helmets off as well. Angel watches them, radiating suspicion, before he slowly removes his helmet as well. His hair is buzzed short to his scalp, a dark five-o’clock shadow on his face. There are a few scars, but Angel is at least as old as Waxer and Boil so that’s no surprise. No, the biggest surprise is definitely Angel’s eyes. Waxer has met brothers with eye color mutations before, but Angel’s eyes are a hard blue-grey, as solid and unforgiving as steel, and Waxer feels a chill go down his spine at the intensity in those eyes. Angel is eyeing Waxer like he’s expecting something, some kind of reaction, his whole body taut with tension.

“Nice to meet you,” Waxer says instead, not acknowledging the mutation. “This is Boil,” he jabs a thumb in his partner’s direction. “He’d probably forget to introduce himself if I left him to his own devices.” Boil grumbles something rude under his breath, but doesn’t try to deny it, because they both know Waxer is right. Angel watches them for another long moment before nodding slowly.

“Lunis, Hock, Fritz,” he says, pointing to each of the men standing next to him. “Skrag and Kung are in the back.” With Angel’s reluctant introduction, the first three all take off their helmets as well. Lunis has a lightsaber burn across the left side of his jaw, his hair on that side chopped short, although some longer pieces have been braided back. A streak of silver draws the eye away from the uneven, almost singed-looking haircut, a single streak dyed near the front of his face. He gives them a nervous smile.

Hock’s short-cropped hair is dyed brown, claw marks raking over the right side of his face and narrowly missing that eye. His facial hair looks like it’s somewhere between sideburns and half of a beard, trimmed into spikes that angle towards the center of his face, although there’s also a fair amount of stubble there as well. There’s a barcode tattooed over his left eye, the lines twisted by the scowl on his face. He’s eyeing them suspiciously, although his manner is at least a little warmer than Angel’s.

Fritz has a face full of shrapnel scars and a smile that’s a little too flat to be fully genuine. His hair was probably spiked up at some point, but under the humidity of the helmet it’s gotten frizzy and sticks up in every direction. Waxer absently wonders if that’s how he got his name. He definitely seems the most approachable of the group - the two who haven’t taken their helmets off are still hanging back, reluctant to approach Waxer and his platoon any further.

“So how have things been going so far on Kiriinth?” he asks curiously, signing for Boil to send the Commander a status report. Something is definitely not right here, and it only lends more weight to the suspicions the General and Commander had shared with them. Angel grunts and walks off without another word. Waxer blinks, confused.

“Fine, I guess,” Hock says gruffly, words clipped. None of them watch Angel leave, keeping their eyes firmly on Waxer’s platoon. “How long are you lot going to be here?” Waxer hums and scratches his chin.

“Well, we’ll see,” he says mysteriously, and immediately has the attention of all the 304th troopers trained on him. Waxer can practically feel the suspicion radiating off of them in waves, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Boil take a step forward. He holds up a hand to stop him. “This wasn’t exactly a planned mission, after all.” This clearly doesn’t satisfy the other troopers, but they force themselves to relax and give Waxer short nods. “Anything we can do to help out while we’re imposing on you guys?” he asks, and Boil groans when he realizes Waxer is signing them up for more work. Waxer huffs and looks at him. “You don’t _have_ to come along,” he points out, and Boil’s cheeks darken in color ever-so-slightly. Boil coughs into his fist.

“Of course I do,” he shoots back. “Who else would keep you out of trouble if I wasn’t there?” Waxer rolls his eyes. It’s a familiar argument, though, and he’s keeping part of his attention focused on the 304th. They seem a little less tense at the bantering, but also very… confused? Waxer forces back a frown and tries to engage the 304th into their conversation a bit more, but his efforts fall flat.

The bad feeling in the back of his head gets worse.

Angel storms back to his Medbay, restless energy filling him from bucket to boots. He doesn’t like having these Ghost Company intruders just wandering around the ship. They’re _strange_. Angel isn’t an idiot, he can see that there’s something deeper going on here, even if he can’t put his finger on what.

That Lieutenant, Waxer, had clearly been left in charge by General Kenobi when the two Generals had departed for the bridge. Him wandering over to talk to them didn’t seem to be unusual behavior - the rest of the platoon had seemed unsurprised, and Angel had gotten the impression that the man was disgustingly sociable - but that shadow of his had been eyeing them like he was expecting one of them to be an assassin in disguise. Well, maybe not quite to that degree, Angel relents, grimacing. More like he’d been expecting them to throw Waxer’s friendliness back in his face with interest attached.

He checks his comm, despite knowing that the chances the Captain will have messaged him are slim to none. Krell doesn’t like to have people comming if it’s not on his orders, and with another General on board he’s probably keeping the Captain close. Angel exhales heavily and strides into the medbay, ignoring the half-a-dozen shinies who yelp and jump as the door opens, and heads straight for his office. There’s one shiny sitting underneath Angel’s crappy desk, knees tucked in as he types on a ‘pad. Angel is pretty sure it’s CT-37/9521, who technically isn’t a medic but who Angel took anyways because he needed the extra hands. ‘21, for some inscrutable reason, seems to be not completely terrified of Angel like most of the other shinies and has taken that as his cue to try and make himself _useful_ . It’s not that Angel _likes_ filling out requisition forms, but the kid is always so eager to please that it makes Angel’s gut churn. He knows he’s stupid to keep allowing him to stick around, but ‘21 doesn’t seem to be deterred by Angel’s foul attitude and if Angel kicks him from the medbay entirely, it’s possible he’ll latch onto a _different_ authority figure.

Angel might not have much of a conscious, these days, but even he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he drove a shiny into the arms of Krell. Not when he knows what Krell can do.

Cody can very safely say that he is not a fan of General Krell. Even if they hadn’t been here to detain him, Cody doubts he would have liked him. Krell just comes off as… arrogant. Dismissive. Not overtly so, to Obi-Wan, but it comes out in the way he interacts with Cody and the clones under his command. He seems respectful enough at first, but it doesn’t take long for Cody to realize the man never uses his name. When he addresses Cody - if he does at all, tending to ignore him in favor of addressing Obi-Wan directly - it’s always ‘Commander’ or ‘you’. Never ‘Cody’. Cody watches the way Krell interacts with the 304th and sees the same things.

Krell hasn’t introduced his Captain, hasn’t introduced any one of his men. Not a single one of them is addressed by name, not even offhandedly. Even when it would be more convenient to say a name, Krell refuses. A sick feeling starts to form in Cody’s stomach.

He hangs back a bit as Obi-Wan and Krell move forward. Krell’s Captain doesn’t even look twice at him, but several of the deck officers shoot nervous looks Cody’s way. There’s none of the usual hustle and bustle Cody expects on a bridge, just an uncomfortable silence punctuated by the sounds of the ship itself.

Cody’s seen enough to make his decision about Krell, and from the dismay he’s picking up from Obi-Wan he knows his Jedi has seen the same things. The deck officers are scared stiff, tensing up more when Krell approaches them even as their workflow barely stutters. Krell is dismissive at best, callous at worse, and neither of those things bode well for the men working beneath him. Cody might believe in coincidences after spending so much time at Obi-Wan’s side, but to even consider it as such is a stretch.

“Say, Master Krell,” Obi-Wan cuts in smoothly, a smile on his face that’s a little too perfect to be real. “Would you care for a spar before my men and I have to leave? It’s been quite a while since I’ve been able to indulge in a good duel.”

“I would be honored, General Kenobi,” Krell demurrs, although Cody can see his clear interest. “Shall I show you to the training area?”

“Please, lead on,” Obi-Wan says with a wave of his hand, gesturing for Krell to show them the way. Cody sees Krell’s Captain stutter to a stop for the first time since they’ve set foot aboard the ship, breaking away from the carefully regulated movements he’s had the rest of the time, but it only lasts a moment before the facade is back up. Cody frowns.

Well, at least he’ll get to see Obi-Wan spar. He always looks good in a fight, but it’s best when there’s no actual risk of death or grievous bodily harm. Then Cody can take the time to actually admire his General. And now, with a man like Krell in front of him, Cody knows he will have every inch of that avenging fire in his eyes when he stands over Krell’s defeated body.

Cody can’t _wait_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? dropping ch 2 two days after posting ch 1? its more likely than you'd think.
> 
> i swear action will actually happen soon, just, yknow, as soon as i figure out how to write a lightsaber fight. in the meantime you get suspicion, suspicion, and cody thirsting over his general
> 
> also! ill be posting refs for the 304th sometime soon-ish on tumblr if anyone wants to see those


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OBI-WAN uses TAUNT. It's SUPER EFFECTIVE!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: canon typical treatment of clone troopers (dehumanization, implied/referenced abuse)

Angel’s head jerks up as he hears the sound of his comm going off. He hears CT-37/9521 yelp as he slams his head against the underside of Angel’s desk, but he’s too busy fumbling for his comm to help. Angel’s heart sinks when he sees it’s from the Captain.

**CT-5938:** General Kenobi offered to spar with General Krell. Please report to training deck one with a G-class medkit.

Angel frowns. There’s a standard medkit kept in all the training areas, but if the Captain thinks they’re going to need a  _ G- _ class one, he must have a feeling that something bad is going to happen. Angel swears under his breath strongly enough to make the shiny blush, scrambling out of his seat to grab his personal medkit from where it’s stashed by the door. “Stay put, kid,” he snaps at ‘21, when it looks like the shiny is planning on following him. He doesn’t stick around long enough to wait for the kid to respond, shoving his helmet on and hurrying towards the training areas. Kriff, the Captain  _ better _ not have waited until someone was already injured to call for Angel. If he’s pulled a stunt like that again, Angel figures he’s well within his rights to gut his CO for being an idiot, especially with another Jedi on board.

As soon as the door to the training deck opens, Angel is met with the sight of the two Jedi standing in the middle of the room, circling each other. The lack of singe-marks and burns means they must have just started. Satisfied that nobody is going to immediately die, Angel scans the rest of the room, quickly spotting his Captain and the famous - or perhaps infamous - Commander Cody standing near one of the other doors. Angel sidles over.

“What happened?” he hisses, eyes flicking between the Captain and the Jedi. His CO just shrugs stiffly, not moving his gaze away from the Generals for even a second.

“General Kenobi asked if General Krell would like a spar before we departed,” Commander Cody offers, watching Angel with his head cocked. “Your General seemed happy to oblige.” Angel’s lips twist into a sneer at Krell being called  _ their _ General, but he has his bucket on for a reason.

“He any good?” Angel half-asks, half demands, crossing his arms over his chest. The Captain will probably be on his case about being so confrontational later, but Angel’s heard that lecture enough times that he could recite it in his sleep. “I only see two arms and one saber.” Strangely, the Commander doesn’t seem to be offended, just amused.

“General Kenobi is one of the best duelists in the Order,” he says, something strange in his voice as he looks back up at the two Jedi. Angel frowns. He feels like he’s missing something here, and he doesn’t like it.

“You’re very skilled, Master Krell,” Obi-Wan demurs, waiting for the other Jedi to attack him again. He could act first, of course - he might be a master of Soresu, but he spent his padawan years using Ataru and that kind of muscle memory never truly fades away. He doesn’t, though. Fights are a good way to get another person’s measure, and the longer this drags on the more likely it is that Krell will make a mistake.

Krell is quick to go to the offensive, and it’s clear his patience is rapidly wearing thin - he’ll make his move soon. Obi-Wan waits, and sure enough, Krell lunges forward, ‘sabers swinging. Obi-Wan is sure the man is used to his four arms and double-bladed lightsabers giving him an advantage, but Obi-Wan has fought double-bladed lightsaber wielders before, and he’d made it a goal to figure out what the weaknesses of the style were. As for the four arms - well, Obi-Wan has faced Grevious enough times to pick up some tricks. In many ways, Obi-Wan is uniquely suited for fighting Krell, and a part of him wonders if that’s why the Council chose  _ him _ to bring the other Jedi in.

Krell’s green saber suddenly swings towards Obi-Wan’s head. Obi-Wan ducks under it, bringing his own blade up to block the blue saber as it comes in from Obi-Wan’s side. His arms strain some from the force of the hit - Krell is a large, powerful man, and knows exactly how to throw his weight around to make his blows as heavy as possible. Obi-Wan disengages and jumps back as the back end of the green saber moves down towards his head. He catches the blade with his own, then ducks under Krell’s arm.

Krell tries to jump back, but he’s too late to stop Obi-Wan’s saber from clipping his hip. The Besalisk growls in growing frustration and leaps forward again, but Obi-Wan is a Master of Soresu and blocks and evades his attacks until he can feel Krell starting to lose control of his emotions.

“Say,” Obi-Wan starts cheerfully, catching the side of Krell’s knee with his blade. “Did you hear what’s going on on Coruscant?”

“No,” Krell grinds out, making another sweep for Obi-Wan’s head. He’d figured out very early on that the stabbing movements he seemed to favor were the easiest for Obi-Wan to redirect, something that’s starting to forget as his temper frays.

“Ah, well, you see,” Obi-Wan says, flipping backwards to avoid both of Krell’s lightsabers coming in at once. “We discovered a most troubling case of abuse amongst the clone troopers.” That throws Krell, but only for a moment.

“Abuse?” he scoffs, and Obi-Wan can feel the unknown troopers in the room’s wariness skyrocket. “Preposterous.”

“Oh no, there was quite a bit of evidence,” Obi-wan says as his smile slips into something a little sharper. “In fact, the Council decided it was worthy of an investigation into the welfare of our troops.” Krell scoffs again, more angrily this time.

“They are just  _ clones,” _ he spits disdainfully, his movements getting sloppier. Obi-Wan doesn’t go for them just yet, though, lets Krell talk. “They are creatures made for war, it doesn’t matter how they are treated.”

“And that would be why you’re wrong, Master Krell.” Obi-Wan darts in and has a blade to Krell’s neck before he can even blink. “And on that note, I think you’ll be pleased to find that you have a one-way trip to Coruscant in your near future.” Krell snarls at him and tries to attack, lightsabers back at a deadly power setting, but Cody already has his blaster out and stuns the man. “Thank you Commander,” Obi-Wan says gratefully, lowering Krell to the ground with the Force. “I don’t suppose you have some binders on you?”

“I don’t, but I know Boil does,” Cody says, approaching Obi-Wan. “Are you alright, sir?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Commander,” Obi-Wan says with a wave of his hand, dismissive. “Would you contact Boil, then, and ask him to bring the binders here?”

“Of course, Sir.” Cody starts to tap on his comm, and Obi-Wan’s attention turns to Krell’s troopers. They both flinch. It’s well-hidden, but Obi-Wan has spent too much time around slaves and former slaves not to recognize it for what it is. His heart aches for the injustices that had been committed under their watch.

“Captain,” Obi-Wan starts, giving them a decent amount of space. “Pardon me, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.” The man shifts uncomfortably.

“CT-5938, General Kenobi, sir,” he says stiffly, and Obi-Wan can feel Cody frown.

“You can use your actual name,” the Commander coaxes, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “You don’t have to hide it.” A startlingly sharp spike of resentment comes off the Captain, but it’s quickly suppressed.

“I said what I said, sir,” he repeats, voice cold. “I am CT-5938. I have no other name.” It sits poorly in Obi-Wan’s chest, but he’d never try to force a clone to go by a name they didn’t want. The other trooper pointedly clears his throat, drawing their attention. Obi-Wan notices that he’s carrying a substantial med-pack, a medic symbol on his armor in faded and peeling red paint. Ah. A medic then. Obi-Wan tries to hide his grimace. From the irritation that comes off of the medic, he doesn’t think he’s done a particularly good job. “This is our Chief Medical Officer, CT-3994.” After a beat, the Captain adds, “Angel.” The newly-identified Angel nods shortly, although both troopers are still radiating enough wariness and suspicion to make Obi-Wan’s head hurt.

“What’s going to happen with General Krell now?” Angel asks bluntly. Obi-Wan is a bit caught off guard, used to his medics hounding him about his injuries at every turn.

“Ah, he’ll be detained here until an escort can arrive to bring him before the Jedi Council.” Angel and the Captain exchange inscrutable looks.

“And what about the rest of the battalion? Sir,” Angel tacks on at the very end. “What’s going to happen to us?” Obi-Wan hums, stroking his beard.

“Well, for the time being I will assume command until either the investigation is complete or a replacement is found.” Before either of the two men can respond, there’s a knock at the door.

“It’s Boil, sir, I brought the binders you requested.” Obi-Wan waves a hand, pretending he doesn’t see the two men flinch, and presses a button with the Force to allow Boil in. The trooper’s helmet is off when he walks in, allowing Obi-Wan to see the curiosity in his eyes as he looks around the room. “Here, sir,” Boil says, straightening to attention as Cody starts to walk over to him.

“Good man, Leiutenant.” Cody takes the binders and walks over to the still-unconscious General Krell, securing his arms behind his back. “Where’s Waxer?” There’s a small flare of recognition from Angel at the name, which was a pretty good indication that Waxer had at least managed to talk to him a bit after Obi-Wan and Cody had left the hanger.

“I’m not sure,” Boil admits, although he seems distracted. “He took Wooley and disappeared to go submerge himself in social interaction.” Cody huffs out a laugh, and a smile pulls at Obi-Wan’s lips. Boil frowns, eyes darting over to the Captain again.

“You have a problem?” Angel demands, voice low and posture tense. Boil immediately holds his hands up in surrender, too puzzled by something to bother with posturing.

“Nah, your Captain just seems familiar,” Boil says, tilting his head in the man’s direction. After a tense moment, the Captain slowly reaches up and pulls his helmet off. Obi-Wan isn’t quite sure what his trepidation about it is for - he’s scarred, certainly, but so were a great deal of other troopers - but then Boil inhales sharply as recognition sparks. “Assault?!” The Captain flinches back hard.

“No,” he snaps, a roiling maelstrom of emotions pouring off of him. “That isn’t my name.” Boil’s brows furrow, confused.

“Did you change it to something else?” he questions, squinting.

“I renounced it,” the Captain says, voice sharp enough to cut through durasteel. “I have no name.” Obi-Wan’s heart drops. Names were important for clones, and sometimes they did change, but to declare his name void entirely? Obi-Wan can’t even imagine the kind of damage Krell must have done to cause that, and for a moment he wishes he’d drawn the duel out a bit longer, gotten in a few more hits, even if that could never make up for the suffering these men have endured. “Am I dismissed, sir?” The Captain asks, voice giving no hint of the emotional storm Obi-Wan can feel in the Force. Still feeling a bit stunned, Obi-Wan just nods, and the Captain promptly spins on his heel and leaves the room in haste. Angel hesitates only a moment longer before he’s following his Captain as well.

Once the two 304th have left, Obi-Wan exhales slowly, trying to settle himself. There are things to be done, after all, and no matter how sickened and horrified Obi-Wan feels, he can’t let his feelings get in the way of his duties.

“Come on,” he finally says, and his voice comes out almost completely level as he turns to his men, who have just been standing around awkwardly. “We have a Besalisk to deal with.” He lifts his hand to raise Krell’s unconscious body off the floor, leaving it him hovering in the air. Boil hesitates but goes ahead to open the door for him.

“The brig is that way, sir,” he says, unusually subdued, and Obi-Wan gives him a tired but grateful smile.

“Thank you, Boil. You’re dismissed; perhaps you should go find Waxer before he finds something he wants to adopt?” Boil takes the excuse gratefully, saluting him a bit sloppily before hurrying off, leaving just Obi-Wan, Cody, and the unconscious Krell.

“...Are you alright, sir?” Cody asks tentatively, as they reach the brig. Obi-Wan sighs heavily.

“Are you?” he counters, floating Krell’s hulking form into a cell and activating the ray shield. Cody doesn’t have a response, and they leave the area in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact i couldnt write the spar/duel with krell until i got some dolls, gave them (sparkly) pipecleaners for lightsabers, and ran through the fight in miniature. 
> 
> (also, the captain generally goes by '38 if you don't want to keep typing out his title like i've been doing)
> 
> ive had a rough few days so if yall want to shoot some requests/prompts [my way](https://zaethiopica.tumblr.com/ask) i'm in the mood to do some short-form things like that!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: uhh a little blood ig? implications abt some of krell's shit

Angel hurries after the Captain, an all too familiar anger burning low in his gut. He dislikes ‘38’s decision to renounce his name just as much as the rest of them, but it sure as kriff isn’t some 212th stranger’s business to stick their nose into it. He manages to catch up with ‘38 fairly quickly and grabs his Captain by the arm, whipping him around to face Angel.

“‘38,” he snaps, and ‘38 growls, jerking his arm away.

“Go  _ away _ , Lieutenant,” ‘38 snaps back. “Don’t you have a Medbay to be running?” Angel lets out a sound of frustration.

“For kriff’s sake, would it kill you to actually stick around and have a conversation instead of constantly running off?!” Angel demands. The punch he gets for that shouldn’t even be a surprise, but Angel staggers back as ‘38’s fist meets his helmet, the taste of copper filling his mouth. Angel snarls wetly, but ‘38 is already storming off. With a frustrated growl, Angel yanks his helmet off and reaches up to touch his nose. Not broken, this time at least, but it’s been bloodied up pretty badly.

With a sound of irritation, Angel tucks his helmet under his arm and heads back for the medbay. He hates walking around with his face exposed, but if Krell really is being sent to the brig then there’s no reason for Angel to get the inside of his helmet all tacky with blood. It’s always such a pain to clean.

The shinies let out alarmed squeaks as Angel strides into the Medbay, but he ignores them and goes straight to his office. ‘21 is still there, looking up from his datapad when Angel opens the door, but his eyes quickly go wide as he sees the blood covering Angel’s mouth and chin. “ _ Sir! _ ” he yelps, but Angel just grunts and pushes him out of the way so he can get to the towels. He wipes his face off, grimacing when he sees that it’s gotten into his blacks as well. ‘38 always did know how to throw a good right hook. “Sir are you alright?” ‘21 frets, wringing his hands as he hovers over Angel with big brown eyes. Angel sighs heavily.

“I’m  _ fine _ , kid,” he says dismissively. “Don’t get so worked up about a little blood.” Kriff, if this kid was getting this worked up over a bloody nose Angel didn’t want to know how he’d react to something  _ actually _ concerning.

“But-” ‘21 starts, but Angel shoots a glare at him and his mouth snaps shut. “...Yes, sir,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor. Angel groans as he feels something an awful lot like guilt rising in his chest. Kriffing  _ shinies _ .

“Just- just go find something to do while I clean up.” ‘21 scurries out of the office and Angel drops into his chair heavily, checking his comm more out of habit than anything else. There’s a few messages from Lunis and Hock, plus a single one from Kung, but it’s all empty status updates with no substance behind them. Nothing that could actually be distracting. He curses under his breath and tosses his comm onto the desk roughly.

He hates this kriffing ship.

Boil comes back from his errand in a daze. Waxer frowns as he spots his partner, taking in the furrowed brows and the way he barely seems to notice the troopers he’s walking around, and worries. “Boil?” he calls out, and several of the 304th troopers nearby startle a bit at the sound of his voice. He hasn’t liked what he’s found since stepping on board Krell’s ship, and he doubts he’ll like whatever news Boil is bringing any better. Boil’s head raises at his name and he makes a beeline for Waxer.

“Wax,” he says, voice thick with relief as he pulls Waxer into a hug. Alarmed, Waxer can only pat his back and look at Longshot with wide-eyed confusion. Boil isn’t a touchy-feely guy, and showing this level of vulnerability around  _ strangers _ ? Whatever Boil had seen must have shaken him pretty badly if he’s willing to do  _ that _ .

“Hey, what happened?” Waxer asks quietly, pulling the two of them over to a mostly empty corner of the room. “You okay?”

“Krell’s Captain - I remember him from Kamino,” Boil says haltingly. Not sure where Boil is going with this, Waxer nods and tries not to let his confusion show on his face. “Our squads bunked pretty close together, so I passed him in the halls a lot.” Waxer hums to show that he’s still listening, and Boil takes a shaky breath. “He renounced his  _ name _ , Waxer,” Boil’s voice cracks and Waxer’s heart drops.

“You’re sure?” he asks, that stupidly optimistic part of himself hoping that maybe Boil had just gotten ahead of himself and jumped to conclusions, but Boil just nods miserably.

“He said so himself.”

“...Alright,” Waxer says after a moment, processing that. Kriff, renouncing a name? Clearly there had been some really dark things going on in the 304th if a  _ vod _ got pushed that far. “Were you close?” he asks, mind still whirring. Boil shakes his head and leans into Waxer a little more.

“No, but… Kriff, Wax, I remember what he was like and it was  _ nothing _ like this.” Boil still seems pretty distressed, but he’s slightly steadier now. “What karking  _ happened _ here?” Boil asks, voice strained. Waxer sighs.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” he says quietly, looking over the rest of the room. An uncomfortably large portion of the 304th are still fresh-faced shinies, young enough that they should still be on Kamino and not dying on some planet Waxer’s never even heard of before. There’s so  _ many _ of them. Even the 501st, with its frontline casualty rate, didn’t have as many shinies as the 304th. The ones who aren’t shinies, in battered white armor, keep apart from the rest, helmets on and body language tense. The few whose faces Waxer has seen are probably around his own age, with no small amount of scarring marring skin that’s a few shades paler than it should be. A haunted air hangs over all of them, strong enough that Waxer can practically feel it himself, like a deep aching bruise that throbs in remembered pain.

A little desperately, Waxer wonders if the General would let him get away with adopting all of the 304th. Considering the look he’d seen on the General’s face when he’d left, Waxer thinks he could probably talk the man around. He did have some tea lying around…

Wooley feels very, very out of place. He’d jumped on the opportunity to participate in a special mission, but now that they’re here he feels incredibly out of his depth. He can tell the others are feeling it too - Waxer’s face is pinched, Crys keeps shifting uncomfortably, and Longshot has checked his blaster five times in the last twenty minutes. Wooley wanders, looking for something to do, and it’s only when he realizes he’s made a wrong turn somewhere and gotten hopelessly lost that he remembers he’d left his helmet with Longshot before he’d walked off.  _ Osik _ .

Wooley stares forlornly at the durasteel wall as if it’ll suddenly produce a map if he waits long enough. It doesn’t. Wooley sighs heavily and looks back the way he came, trying to remember the path he’d taken, but comes up short. He tentatively starts retracing his own steps, this time being extra careful to remember the route and any identifying features he passes. He’s rounding the seventh corner when he slams into another vod. The vod catches himself, but Wooley doesn’t, and he hits the floor hard.

“Oh stars, are you alright?” Wooley groans and starts pushing himself to his feet. The vod holds out a hand for him and Wooley takes it gratefully, leveraging himself up off the floor. “Sorry about that,” the vod apologizes before Wooley can say anything. “I should let you get to wherever you’re going.”

“Actually…” Wooley starts tentatively, a little relieved that he’s found  _ someone _ who knows the ship better than he does. The vod pauses, cocking his head.

“You’re lost?” he guesses, amused, and Wooley flushes. The vod chuckles and pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, I know it’s confusing the first few weeks. Happens all the time. I’ll take you back to the others.”

“Thank you,” Wooley says gratefully, a weight off of his chest. “I’m Wooley, by the way.”

“Lunis,” the vod replies in kind, voice warm. “C’mon, if we get back soon enough I bet none of the others will even notice you’re missing.” Wooley sincerely doubts that, but he’s not going to correct the man who’s going out of his way to help Wooley. He just nods instead, and Lunis seems satisfied with that as he turns and starts heading down another hall entirely. Wooley hurries to catch up with him, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rounds the corner.

At first, he thinks he must have just remembered the path he’d taken wrong, but the further they go, the more sure Wooley is that the halls they’re walking in are different ones entirely. He’s a little more trepidatious as he follows Lunis, eyes darting around for any flicker of 212th gold, but he doesn’t want to offend the other trooper by implying he didn’t know what he was doing after he’s been so helpful to Wooley, especially if this is just a shortcut or something. They come to a stop in front of an unfamiliar door, and just as Wooley is about to say something, it opens.

It’s the barracks. Wooley is thrown enough that he doesn’t immediately inform Lunis that there’s been some kind of mistake, and finds himself getting very kindly shooed into the room. Wooley, now incredibly confused, is guided over to a group of baby-faced shinies sitting together on the floor. They look up as Wooley and Lunis approach, several faces lighting up. “Lunis!” one of them greets happily. “I thought the Captain needed you for something.”

“We finished with that,” Lunis informs them, pushing Wooley forward. “You lost a little something in the halls, so I thought I’d bring him back home.” The shinies exchange confused looks and Wooley is fully expecting them to inform the other trooper that they’ve never seen Wooley before in their lives, but they just shrug.

“Thanks, sir,” one of them says, moving aside so that there’s a space for Wooley. “‘21 just got back, so we can play a full game now.” Lunis chuckles and nudges Wooley towards the group. Wooley looks between the door and the group, not sure what to do. If he leaves he has no way of knowing how to get back to the hanger, but if he stays the Commander won’t be able to find him. He could ask Lunis to- he turns, and the older trooper is gone. Wooley’s jaw drops, and one of the other shinies laughs good-naturedly.

“Yeah, he does that sometimes. You’ll get used to it,” he says lazily, beckoning for Wooley to join them. “C’mon, we’ll deal you in.” Wooley looks back at the door one last time before hesitantly joining the circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angel is a bastard and i love him
> 
> also im basically taking writing prompts/requests if you want to send some here or on my [tumblr](https://zaethiopica.tumblr.com/ask)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shinies dunk on angel for ten minutes straight, more at eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced abuse re:krell

“Hey,” one of Wooley’s new companions greet him warmly as they start to deal out the cards. “You got a name?”

“Uh, yeah,” Wooley replies, not sure how to handle this. Does he tell them that Lunis must have made a mistake, that he’s 212th? “I’m Wooley.” There are a few nods all around, and Wooley glances around the group. There’s seven others there, each one just as shiny as him, white plastoid without paint all around. Some of them are definitely younger than Wooley, that’s clear just from looking at them, but even the others… Well, Wooley has a bad feeling that  _ he’s _ the oldest one here.

“I’m Shine,” the sister sitting across from Wooley says shyly. Her hair is choppy in the way that means she’s been growing it out from the regulation cut she must have had before, still not long enough to make it past her chin. Her skin is a little too smooth, a little too pale, for her to be anything but fresh off of Kamino.

“Twi,” the vod next to her says, head propped up on a hand as they watch the deck be shuffled with a look of intense boredom on their face. Their armor has a few marks and dings on it, but not much. Not nearly as much as Wooley’s would have, if most of his last set hadn’t been destroyed in their previous deployment.“Short for Twelve-five.” Wooley winces. 

“Placeholder?” he asks, but Twi just shrugs.

“Quicker to say than CT-12555,” they say bluntly. Wooley tips his head in acknowledgment. Placeholder nicknames are pretty common - CT numbers are  _ long _ , and tedious to say, especially when in combat - but most  _ vode _ shed that as they reach maturity and figure out who they are. Looking around again, taking in the softness of their faces, Wooley realizes with a sinking feeling that that’s because they  _ haven’t _ reached maturity.

“I’m Retro,” the brother sitting to Wooley’s right says, his hair cut a bit shorter than regulation but with no other clear marks to set him apart from the rest. In fact… none of them really have much individualism in their appearances to speak of, at least by trooper standards. Shine’s hair is the biggest deviation from the standard, but in comparison to Crys’ blond hair or Wooley’s own mohawk, it isn’t a lot. “Company is on your other side, and Digits is next to him.” Digits is the one with the sabacc deck, and he looks up from where he’s shuffling the cards at the sound of his name. “Trip is the other one next to Shine.” Wooley blinks, counting heads.

“Wait, but that’s only…”

“Oh yeah,” Retro says, straightening up. “‘21’s here too, but he’s sulking.”

“I am  _ not _ ,” ‘21 grumbles, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m just… concerned.” That gets several snorts as Digits starts to deal out cards.

“Sure, concerned,” Retro says patronizingly, before looking back at Wooley. “‘21 hasn’t picked a name yet because he wants his boss to do it, but Angel hasn’t gotten the hint yet.” ‘21 flushes and chucks a datapad at Retro’s head.

“Shut up, it’s not like that!” he squeaks.

“Your boss?” Wooley asks curiously, checking his hand. Not great, but not that bad either.

“Angel, the CMO,” Company explains. “He’s a real piece of work.”

“He’s not that bad,” ‘21 protests, his blush dying down. “He lets me work in his office all the time!” 

“He has you do his flimsiwork,” Company says flatly. ‘21 huffs.

“He does not! I just do it ‘cause I’m already in there and he’s busy as it is.”

“You’re insane,” Trip informs his brother, grimacing down at his cards. “Angel has the patience of an ill-tempered bantha.”

“The CMO has a bad temper?” Wooley asks, trying to keep everything he’s heard straight. Everyone except ‘21 groans, and he gives them all a dirty look.

“Like you wouldn’t  _ believe _ ,” Retro bemoans. “No bedside manner, either. He slaps some bacta on you and then tells you to fuck off.”

“No, that’s just because you showed up with a scratch from training,” Digits counters. “He can usually keep a lid on his temper, even if he’s spitting bile.” ‘21 does wince at that, so there’s clearly a grain of truth to the statement.

“I don’t think he actually remembers our names,” Shine says with a sigh, looking gloomy. “Or even our numbers. He just goes ‘hey you’ to pretty much everyone who isn't an officer, even the other medics.” ‘21 groans, giving in to the current topic of gossip.

“He came in with a bloody nose earlier,” he informs them, and Retro and Digits both perk up in interest. ‘21 wrinkles his nose at them - or maybe his cards - but continues. “Like, blood all over the bottom half of his face. He snapped at me and kicked me out for getting worried about him,” ‘21 grumbles, a bit sulkily. Trip pats his shoulder sympathetically.

“He left with one of the G-class medkits earlier, didn’t he?” Shine asks as the round comes to a close with Trip as the winner. ‘21 blinks, taken aback.

“Yeah, actually. I hit my head on the desk when his comm went off, and then he swore a bunch and hurried off with a medkit.” Wooley mouths ‘hit my head on the desk’ in confusion, but he’s ignored in favor of the gossip.

“Maybe there was a mistake?” Twi offers half-heartedly. “I haven’t heard of anyone else getting hauled in today, so maybe he grabbed the wrong kit or overreacted or something and that’s why he came back with a bloody nose.” There’s hums of consideration, but ‘21 is already shaking his head.

“No, he was definitely upset about something when he came back.” ‘21 chews on his lip as he looks down at his cards. “Has anyone seen the other Jedi that showed up today?” That gets the group to sober, much to Wooley’s confusion.

“Only from across the hanger,” Company says with a shrug. “Skrag did at least settle down a bit afterwards, which is great because I was sick of him looking over my shoulder all the time.” Retro groans dramatically.

“It’s not just him, it’s  _ all _ the officers! I heard Angel was more anal than usual-” he waves a hand in ‘21’s direction, who looks miffed but can’t argue. “-and even Lunis was triple-checking bunks today. At least  _ he _ ’s willing to fix whatever imaginary wrinkle he spots himself instead of making you do inventory all over again.”

“Kung again?” Digits asks, a bit sympathetic and a bit amused. Retro grimaces. “I thought he was in the mess after the announcement came in.”

“He  _ was _ ,” Retro grumbles. “But that doesn’t stop him from going through flimsiwork on a ‘pad and sending it back if he’s not pleased.” There’s many sighs around the group - clearly this is a common issue. Wooley, feeling a bit bewildered, just keeps his mouth shut. He has no clue what’s going on at this point, so many names and things thrown around that it’s making his head spin trying to keep track of them. And he does want to keep track, because at the very least when Commander Cody hunts him down to haul him back to the gunship like a misbehaving tooka Wooley will have  _ something _ to give him.

Wooley looks down despairingly at his terrible sabacc hand and hopes the Commander finds him before he starts losing too badly.

“Hey, Waxer?” Waxer pauses and glances over at a nervous-looking Longshot.

“Yeah?”

“Well, uh,” Longshot clears his throat. “Wooley handed me his helmet earlier and went for a walk and, well, he hasn’t come back.” Waxer stares at him incredulously. It was shiny-101! Never let the shinies go unfamiliar places by themselves! Longshot winces.

“Well, kriff,” Boil mumbles, pushing off the wall he’d been leaning against. “His comm working?”

“No, his armor got pretty messed up so he has everything linked to his helmet at the moment,” Waxer says as he looks down at Wooley’s helmet with a frown. It’s plain white, but significantly more worn than the rest of Wooley’s current set of armor. “Did he say where he was going?” he asks Longshot, who shakes his head. Waxer sighs heavily and takes the helmet from Longshot. “I’ll let the Commander know, the General can probably find him with his Force  _ osik _ .” He wishes he could go out and look for Wooley himself, but he has his responsibilities too and Wooley is a smart kid, he should be able to keep his head out of trouble for long enough. That doesn’t stop Waxer from worrying as he writes out the message, though. Wooley is the youngest trooper in Ghost Company, and Waxer can admit that he’s got a soft spot for the kid. Boil would say that Waxer has a soft spot for everything, but Boil still tries to pretend that his heart isn’t just as soft and squishy as Waxer’s so his opinion doesn’t count.

Waxer’s contemplating what to do next when the PA system crackles on. “All officers report to Hanger Bay 37-1 for debriefing.” Waxer’s heart sinks as he realizes what this must mean. The General had found something.

Obi-Wan lets Cody handle getting things organized after Krell has been safely secured in the bridge. It’s selfish of him and he knows that, but he wants a moment to sit and gather his thoughts, to rebalance himself in the Force after what he’s just had to confront. His head is pounding from the toxic roil of emotions coming off Krell and his men, sadness and anger and so much  _ fear _ that Obi-Wan can’t even fathom how this was able to go on so long undetected. No, he amends, he does know. The Jedi are stretched so thin in the war that they can’t even manage the issues they do know about, let alone discover new ones. That doesn’t mean Obi-Wan hates it any less, though.

“Sir?” Cody says gently, hand hovering over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan exhales slowly and looks up at the man. He knows Cody is rattled by this whole thing as well, can feel the anger bubbling in Cody’s bones, but Cody has learned how to temper his anger just as Obi-Wan had so long ago. “The meeting is ready.”

“Thank you, Cody,” Obi-Wan says tiredly, trying for a smile. He pushes himself to his feet, ignoring the faint ache in his muscles and the slight burns from a lightsaber turned up a little stronger than the usual training settings. Cody leads him to the hanger he’d arranged for them to use. It looks like they’re the last ones there.

The 304th’s officers, the ones who had been standing behind Krell when the 212th had landed, are all clustered together and radiating tension. Waxer and Crys are standing on the other side of the room, giving the men plenty of space even as they shoot concerned looks at the other battalion. Obi-Wan clears his throat and they all snap to attention, fear spiking through every single one of the 304th in the room.

“Thank you all for arriving so promptly,” he begins, Cody’s reassuringly steady presence at his back. “There have been some changes you all need to be aware of. Firstly, General Krell is being investigated for sexually assaulting a clone trooper.” There’s several sharp inhales from the 304th, and no small amount of shock and horror. Even Waxer and Crys look taken aback, and Obi-Wan mentally winces as he realizes he had left out this particular detail earlier. “He is currently detained in the brig, where he will remain until he can be taken to the Jedi Temple. I will be temporarily taking over command of the 304th until either a replacement is found or Krell is somehow cleared.” He looks over the group, taking in their defensive posture, feeling the aching bruises that they are in the Force now that they’ve let down their shields slightly. “I want to make it very clear that Krell’s actions were in no way condoned by the Jedi Order, both in the incident that brought this to our attention and in his treatment of all of you.” Some of the younger officers startle at that. Obi-Wan’s heart aches. “Please know that we will do whatever we can to support you and ensure that this does not happen again.” The Captain and Angel and a few of the other oldest officers feel very skeptical at the offer, but Obi-Wan doesn’t push. “While the news of Krell’s detainment needs to remain under wraps outside of the battalion, you may discuss it with your men as they see fit. If they have any accounts or testimony they would like to submit, they’re welcome to bring it to me or any other member of Ghost Company and we will add it to the case against General Krell. You may also bring it to us in their place, should they not feel comfortable doing so on their own.” He can tell the 304th is reaching the limit of information they can process at the moment, so he takes a step back. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.” Unsurprisingly, not a single member of the 304th comes over, but Waxer and Crys do. Waxer feels very troubled, and Obi-Wan fights back a grimace. “My apologies for not informing you of the entire situation beforehand,” he offers, but Crys just shakes his head.

“It’s fine, sir. We understand Opsec.” Waxer nods distractedly, checking his comm. Obi-Wan frowns.

“Is something wrong, Waxer?” the Lieutenant looks up at him, brows pinched.

“Sorry, sir. Wooley wandered off on his own earlier without his helmet and nobody’s seen him since. I was checking with Longshot to see if he’d come back on his own yet.” Obi-Wan’s stomach drops. He quickly reaches out for Wooley’s familiar Force signature, relieved to find that he reads as being unharmed and in no immediate danger. In fact, his Force presence is lit up with amusement, and wherever he is at the moment he’s clearly not in harm’s way. Obi-Wan isn’t familiar enough with the ship to discern where he is at the moment, although he does seem to be on the same deck, if in some other area of the ship.

“Well, he seems to be enjoying himself at the moment,” Obi-Wan says out loud, and Waxer’s shoulders go slack with relief. “I’m afraid I don’t know the ship well enough to tell you where he is, though,” he adds apologetically. Waxer waves him off.

“That’s fine, sir. If he really isn’t in danger then we can take a little bit longer and find him by ourselves.” Obi-Wan frowns.

“If you’re sure...” he says skeptically. Waxer nods.

“It’ll be fine, sir. You clearly need a break and a good cup of tea right now,” the man says firmly, and Obi-Wan sighs.

“A cup of tea  _ does _ sound pleasant,” he says, a bit wistfully. “I should go meditate for a bit first, though. If anyone needs my counsel, feel free to interrupt me at any time.” Waxer’s Force presence, always bright (if strangely muffled) brushes up against Obi-Wan’s own in an effort to bolster him. It doesn’t do much, but Obi-Wan appreciates the effort none-the-less.

“Of course, sir. We’ll contact the Commander immediately if anything goes wrong or we locate Wooley.”

“Remind him not to go off on his own again,” Cody says flatly, arms crossed over his chest. Waxer winces, but there’s a smile curling at his lips.

“Will do, sir. Waxer out.” He gives them a sloppy salute and jogs away, Crys lagging behind him. Exhaustion washes over Obi-Wan and he fights back the urge to lean into Cody for support. The galaxy’s cruelties never cease to horrify him, no matter how many atrocities he’s seen over his lifetime, and it doesn’t get easier. Even now, with death surrounding him on every side, it isn’t easier.

It never is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently my brain has decided that changing meds=insane productivity for now, so here's another update. i've also been working on updates for all my other fics (minus spilled red wine) so those will happen... soon-ish. probably.  
> sorry for dropping so many ocs on yall at once btw!! 😅 ik it's a lot
> 
> (also wooley is actually a lot better at sabacc than he gives himself credit for)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced abuse, some mentions of a loss of fingers, '38's kinda messed up headspace

‘38 can barely even hear the muttering of the other officers over the white noise filling his ears, their words little more than static to his racing mind. Krell was being investigated. Krell was being investigated for raping a  _ clone trooper _ . Not even a nat-born, not some civilian or another Jedi, but a  _ clone _ . And the Jedi council had apparently thought it was worth sending one of their strongest Generals out to assess the situation.

‘38 knows that whoever reported it isn’t in the 304th. Which leaves the question… who  _ had _ reported this? What other trooper had Krell gotten his grimy hands on? What other trooper had brought it up to the Council and been  _ believed _ , had been cared about enough for a full investigation to be called?

“‘38…” Lunis says, sounding concerned. He reaches out to touch ‘38’s shoulder, but ‘38 flinches back, Krell’s image flashing over Lunis. Lunis recoils like he's been burned. ‘38 takes a shaky inhale and looks away, hands clenching into fists at his side. He hates feeling like this, unsure and off-balance, and a part of him wishes he could go back to before General Kenobi had shown up and shaken everything up. At least then he understood what was going on, had known how to work with what he was given. Now he doesn’t even have that.

“Be sure to inform the men of the General’s detainment and the reason for it,” he informs his men in clipped tones. He can’t see their faces with their helmets on, but he knows they’re frowning.

“...Sir…” Kung starts tentatively, shoulders curled in on himself. “Is…” ‘38 exhales heavily, cursing Kenobi internally. He’d heard what Kenobi had said in the training deck, but he hadn’t thought - he’d had his doubts about it being a ‘check on the welfare of the troops’ or whatever the other Jedi had said, but he couldn’t have even  _ imagined _ that it was actually because someone - some  _ trooper _ \- had specifically pointed them Krell’s way.

~~_ Two years of this, and  _ that _ was all it had taken? _ ~~

‘38 flexes his hands in an effort to calm his racing mind, but all it does is make him think of the two fingers he doesn’t have anymore, and ‘38 wants to scream. He chokes down his anger, his frustration, his shame, and tilts his helmet in response to Kung’s wordless question. The younger trooper takes a shaky breath, leaning into Skrag so that their pauldrons are pressed up against each other in a way that can’t be comfortable. ‘38 stifles the bitterness that tries to rise in his chest, the ball of emotions trying their best to claw their way out of his chest, and wordlessly turns on his heel to leave. He knows the others will want to talk to him later, but for now they’ll all give him some space.

Well, all of them except for Angel. ‘38 bites down a growl as he hears Angel’s footsteps join his own as he stalks towards one of the gyms. Angel has never learned to leave well enough alone, and ‘38 doesn’t have the patience for dealing with him right now.

“Piss off, Angel,” he warns the medic, coming to an abrupt stop in the hall. “I mean it.” There’s a moment of silence before Angel’s footsteps slowly retreat. ‘38 waits until they’ve faded entirely before his shoulders slump, breath exiting him in a gust. Kriff.  _ Kriff _ . ‘38 leans against the wall heavily, ripping his helmet off and throwing it across the hall. He doesn’t even flinch at the sound of plastoid crashing against metal as he drops his head into his hands.

Kriff, when had his life gone so  _ wrong _ ?

~~_ (He already knows exactly when his life had begun to fall apart, and it was the day that Assault had met General Krell for the very first time.) _ ~~

Wooley starts to get nervous when other members of the 304th start to trickle into the barracks, but none of them even look twice at him. They’re all talking amongst themselves, so distracted that one vod almost trips over Wooley before they see him. They don’t even apologize, too caught up in whatever conversation they’re having.

“-you saw the look on Hock’s face,” they say empathetically, voice thick with emotion. “Kriff, can you even  _ imagine _ ? I never thought the General could go  _ that far _ .” Wooley looks over at the other shinies for any clue about what the other two vode are talking about, but they seem just as lost as him.

“What did the General do?” Retro asks, causing the vode to startle as they finally notice the group of shinies still sitting on the floor.

“You haven’t heard yet?” the other one asks, and they shake their heads. He grimaces. Before he can open his mouth to tell them, though, Lunis steps into the room and the barracks quiet down immediately. Wooley’s stomach drops. Lunis has his helmet tucked under an arm, a grim look on his face as he scans the room.

“Men,” he starts, voice serious, and Wooley straightens up on pure reflex. “If you haven’t already heard, a grave situation has been brought to our attention. General Krell is currently being investigated by the Jedi Council for sexually abusing a clone trooper.” There’s several sharp inhales from around Wooley, but his mind is racing too much for him to tell who they’re from. General Kenobi hadn’t said  _ that _ in the briefing before this mission, and Wooley can’t help but feel a little sick to his stomach. Lunis continues, “If there are any instances of physical, sexual, or verbal abuse you would like to report, please bring it to an officer and we will ensure that it is submitted as part of the investigation.” He hesitates a moment, before adding, “This information cannot spread out of the battalion at this time, but if you need someone to talk to, please know that we are ready to listen to any concerns you might have.” He bows his head. “That will be all.” He turns on his heel and leaves, leaving the room to devolve into chaos.

Wooley’s group is by far the quietest one in the room. Most of them are shocked silent, pale and stricken at the news. Retro looks at a complete loss for words, just looking around the room helplessly, while Shine looks like she’s close to tears, Trip awkwardly patting her on the back even as a deep frown pulls at his own face. ‘21 looks distraught and anxious, vibrating with an energy that the others simply lack right now, wringing his hands as he mutters to himself under his breath.

Wooley tries to push down his own confused muddle of emotions and focuses on comforting Retro as best as he can, then Digits when the other  _ vod  _ comes over and presses into Retro’s side. They’ve both gone very quiet despite Wooley’s best efforts, and it’s a distraction enough that Wooley doesn’t notice when ‘21 slips out of the room.

Lunis’ hands are shaking. He hopes the men haven’t noticed. He’d left as soon as he was done informing the barracks of the situation, but Lunis still has men on duty who should hear it from him and not the mouth of another vod. He knows Hock, at least, feels similarly - the first thing he’d done after the meeting had concluded and ‘38 and Angel had left was call up his entire platoon and give them the news. Skrag had pulled his men into a meeting and Kung had sent them all comm messages, but Lunis knows that there’s a fairly decent portion of the 304th not under one of the (living) officer’s direct command, and the others likely won’t think of it for some time. ‘38 normally would, or even Angel, but those two… Well, they have enough on their plates right now. Lunis tries to swallow the sick feeling that rises up when he thinks about it, forces it downs and tries to focus on anything else.

“-riff, Waxer, you should have  _ said something _ -” Lunis straightens as he hears voices around the corner, thick with concern. He hurries over, only to come to an abrupt stop as he sees 212th gold. It’s the two men that had been introduced to Angel what seems like eons ago, one of which Lunis vaguely recognizes from the debriefing. In fact, he’s the one currently slumped against the wall, one hand on his head as the other hovers worriedly. They aren’t Lunis’ men, but… a person in distress is as welcome a distraction as any, he supposes.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, and the second man’s head snaps up.

“Oh, thank the Force,” he says, sounding relieved. “This  _ di’kut _ got a migraine and didn’t tell anyone until he nearly brained himself on the wall.” The other one - Waxer, Lunis thinks, making the other one Boil - groans and slaps the second’s hand away.

“Kriff off, ‘t wasn’t like that.” Boil scoffs and gets an elbow to the stomach for his efforts. “I  _ told _ you, I felt  _ fine _ ‘til a bit ago.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,  _ chakaar _ ,” Boil says irritably, before looking back up at Lunis. “Do you think you could show us to the medbay or something?” Lunis hesitates for a moment, thinking of Angel’s tense posture as he’d followed after ‘38.

“...The medbay probably isn’t the best idea if he’s got a migraine,” he offers tentatively, and Boil nods, looking like he’s actually waiting for Lunis to say more and isn’t going to cut him off and correct him for ‘taking liberties’. “There’s a rec room for the officers he can lay down in for a while.” Boil frowns and Lunis braces himself, but it’s just a question.

“Are you sure? Waxer will start fussing if anybody is kicked out because of him.” Waxer huffs and elbows Boil again, but his face is twisted with pain and his hand quickly goes back to his temple.

“Yeah,” Lunis says, throat suddenly feeling tight. “We don’t actually use it for much.” That gets him a strange look from Boil, but he slings Waxer’s arm over his shoulder and helps him a bit more upright.

“Lead on, then.” Lunis guides them through the halls to the rarely-used rec room, using his authorization to open it for the pair. He follows them inside, watching as Boil half-drops his partner onto the couch. It’s dimmer in here, none of the fluorescents that line the halls, and Waxer exhales heavily in relief as some of the tension around his eyes fade. He and Boil converse quietly, and Lunis turns his gaze away from them, choosing instead to observe a dent in the durasteel wall. He doesn’t know why his chest hurts so much seeing the easy camaraderie between the two Ghosts, but there’s a dull ache where his heart should be and he can’t quite bear to watch the two of them in such a tender moment.

Lunis swallows around the lump in his throat and starts walking towards the door. He still has things he needs to do, after all, but he hears someone clear his throat behind him. Boil is standing up, looking straight at him.

“Do you think you could stick around a bit?” he asks, sounding a little apologetic. “I’d rather not get lost again, if it’s all the same to you.” Lunis hesitates.

“I still have men to inform about…” he trails off, and Boil grimaces.

“Right. Comm code, then?” Relieved, Lunis holds his comm out for Boil, who quickly types it in. “I’ll let you know when we clear out.”

“I can try to make it back before you leave,” Lunis offers, unsure of himself. Boil hums, looking down at Waxer.

“If you could, that would be great, but don’t rush yourself.” His lips twist into a grimace. “They need your time a lot more than we do.” Lunis just nods and tries to not look like he’s fleeing as he leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual plot threads?? in MY fic??? its more likely than youd think
> 
> in other news '38 is having a very bad time
> 
> (also not to fish for comments or anything but!! feedback of any kind is a big factor in motivating me to write and i do really appreciate the comments i get from y'all even if i don't always respond!!! spilled red wine wld have never made it past its first chapter if not for y'alls lovely comments :') )

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is so short, but I wanted to lay some groundwork out first! Krell's battalion are OCs and I kind of dumped a bunch of them all at once, so if that gets confusing feel free to ask for clarification/more information
> 
> I'm zaethiopica on tumblr if you want to chat!


End file.
